


The One Where Sokka is Comforting

by thefiresfromheaven



Series: Zukka Omega!Verse [5]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alpha Sokka, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Minor Character Death, Omega Verse, Omega Zuko, Sad, post Sozin's Comet, you guys are gonna hate me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 10:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8529994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefiresfromheaven/pseuds/thefiresfromheaven
Summary: “Worse? How the hell could this get any worse!”





	

**Author's Note:**

> totally didn't edit this at all because it made me to sad to reread. you're welcome.

“ _W_ _hat?_ ”

 

Katara repeats herself and Hakoda starts talking, explaining, but Sokka is way too shocked to really listen. He’s saying something about Omega biology, something about elasticity of the body and exceptional healing capabilities, but they’re just words and they don’t mean anything to him right now.

 

“You-you’re joking, right?” He turns to Katara with a pleading expression. “Did someone put you up to this? Was it Toph? Because I swear if she thinks this is fucking funny-!”

 

He’s shouting now, fuming, because it can’t be true, it can’t! Zuko can’t be-

 

“Sokka, get a grip!” Katara shouts back, grabbing him by the shoulder and shaking him in an uncharacteristically aggressive move. “You’re only going to make it worse for him!”

 

“ _Worse?_ How the hell could this get any worse!”

 

His dad is looming over them then, eyes dark and stormy. “Both you of need to calm down,” he says, and his voice is quiet, but in that Alpha leader way, the voice that can make a rioting crowd of soldiers quiet down. They both go silent, staring at him, waiting for whatever he’s going to say next. He only speaks again when he’s sure he has their full attention.

 

“Right now is a vital time in the rebuilding of the world. The past century of darkness is finally over, but that does not mean that the war is won. The Fire Nation has lived in this manner for a long time and many of them will not be so willing to lay down arms and concede quietly to us.” Hakoda sighs and goes quiet for a moment, looking a little sad. He reaches out and lays a heavy hand on Sokka’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for what’s happened, son. Truly, I am. But right now this isn’t about you or how you feel about it.”

 

Sokka feels like hes going to start crying or maybe start breaking things. “But-”

 

“No,” his dad says firmly. “You can mourn later. Right now what you need to focus on is Zuko. He needs to be strong, if he’s going to be crowned Fire Lord. General Iroh can only hold the position for so long before the people become restless. They need a new leader, someone who will represent a fresh start. It’s your duty to make sure that he will be strong enough to be that new leader. Do you understand?”

 

He nods. What his dad is saying, it’s difficult, even a little callous. But he understands, he does, or the part of his that is trained to be a good soldier does.

 

And that’s how he finds himself, moments later, limping down the hall towards the room where Zuko is resting. His injured leg and crutch make it slow going, but he needs the time to think anyways. He has no idea what he’s supposed to say, how he’s supposed to react. Zuko, his sweet Zuko, he’s already been through so much in the past few days alone. His sister and his dad are both locked up, both mad, the burden of an entire kingdom is now suddenly on his shoulders, and now _this_.

 

The guards outside of the door barely spare him a second glance when he passes by. He’s been in and out of this room more than anyone except the healers who have been seeing to him and they know who he is by now. The door swings open easily on well-oiled hinges and Sokka steps into Zuko’s childhood bedroom. He’s immediately hit by a powerful wave of Zuko’s scent, laced deeply with pain and shock. He’s hurrying across the room before he even has time to think, pulled forward by his instincts more than anything. The Zuko-shaped lump in the middle of the opulent bed is trembling, swathed in several layers of rich red blankets, and Sokka catches a small, hiccuping sob as he settles onto the edge of the bed. He discards his crutch and crawls closer to Zuko, ignoring the sharp pain in his leg when he jostles it against the edge of the bed.

 

Zuko goes quiet as Sokka settles down next to him, even his breathing stilling, like he’s afraid that Sokka will be mad at him for crying. He probably is afraid of that, actually, and what little was left whole of Sokka’s heart shatters. He makes a soft, wounded noise and drapes himself over his mate’s body, sheltering him as best as he can. Zuko lets out a choked sound, then reaches out and pulls Sokka closer, clinging to him like a lifeline in a storm. He doesn’t hold back anymore, lets tears run down his cheeks, lets heart-wrenching cries rip from his throat. Sokka holds him tightly and doesn’t speak, knows that nothing he could say would make any of this better. He just holds Zuko, strokes his hair, grasps his hand and twines their fingers together.

 

When, after an indeterminable amount of time, Zuko cries himself to sleep, Sokka maneuvers them onto their sides, pressing his chest to Zuko’s back, mindful of the fresh wounds his lover bears. The Omega makes soft whimpering noises but otherwise doesn’t protest the movement. Sokka presses his nose against his mate’s still unmarked neck, waiting for him to fall into a deeper sleep, and only after that has happened does he allow himself to cry. He’s quiet about it (doesn’t want to wake his sleeping love, not now, let him escape in sleep for a while) but he feels his grief like an arrow to the heart. His tears fall hot against Zuko’s warm skin, and for just an instant he allows himself to imagine that all of this had gone differently. That he had insisted that Zuko not return to the Fire Nation to face Azula, or that he had demanded to be taken along. Any other choice that might have changed things. He can’t hold onto that imaginary world though, not when he has his Omega in his arms, still smelling of death and fear and sadness. Not when he can press his hand against Zuko’s stomach and feel the place where their child should have been growing, it’s small life brought abruptly to a stop by Azula’s lightening.

 

_‘He was with child,’ Katara had said, eyes downcast and expression troubled. ‘A body that small and undeveloped can’t survive what Azula threw at him.’ And then, looking up and meeting his eyes, she’d said, ‘The lightening damaged his uterus. He may not be able to conceive ever again.’_

 

Sokka weeps. He weeps for Zuko, so damaged and sad and fragile. He weeps for their unborn child, who he’ll never get to meet. He cries until there are no more tears left, and then he settles down to sleep because when his mate wakes he’ll need to be strong again, supportive and attentive and there for him. He will be the rock that Zuko can lean against when the outside world gets to be too much, when he’s weighed down by grief or anger or frustration. And when Zuko sleeps, when he’s truly resting and safe, Sokka will let himself weep again.

**Author's Note:**

> please feel free to yell at me in the comments or on Tumblr as avatarninja


End file.
